


Hands

by Lipstickcat



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, prompt meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 16:05:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9499436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lipstickcat/pseuds/Lipstickcat
Summary: Written for a prompt meme on Tumblr, this one ran away from me a little.. The prompt was Hands - Bilbo.





	

He'd never really given his hands a second thought. They were practical, maybe not as nimble as an artist's, nor as green thumbed as a gardener's, but they served their purpose very well, all in all. Only very rarely did he burn himself when he cooked, or perhaps nick himself with a sharp papercut when he was so thoroughly engaged in a book that he didn't notice himself toying with the edge of a page. He looked after his hands, but only so much as was reasonably normal. He kept his nails short and respectable, scrubbing the dirt from under them when he did dabble with his plants. Lavender oil in the winter to keep his skin from cracking. Nothing overtly vain, for a Hobbit. 

The first time he really paid attention to his own hands, though, was in Rivendell. Or more precisely, his own hands in comparison to another's. 

In a quiet square, surrounded by serene pale architecture, Dwalin and Dori attempted to teach Bilbo how to best wield his sword. It seemed like a futile exercise: Bilbo wasn't a warrior. His arm ached just holding it. 

"Don't let it sag. Keep it pointed at your target, like an extension of your arm," Dwalin's accent always sounded annoyed to Bilbo, which made it frustratingly difficult to decide if he was actually annoyed or not. 

Bilbo, on the other hand, _was_ annoyed. "Oh, that's easy for you to say. With your muscles and everything." 

Dwalin glowered. Dori, very tactfully, sidled between them. 

"The muscles will come in time. The more time you spend practicing, the easier it will become." 

"Hobbits aren't supposed to have muscles..." Bilbo muttered bitterly. The tip of the sword flopped further until it scratched against the stone ground. All three winced. 

"If you can't keep it upright with one hand, use both..." 

Thorin's voice behind him didn't make Bilbo jump as he might have expected it to. He hadn't known he was there, and if Bilbo didn't know better he might have even said that Thorin had purposely kept his voice gentle so not to startle him. Perhaps he did. Perhaps he valued Dori too much to risk an unseasoned Hobbit jumping and running him through with a glorified letter opener. 

With some effort, Bilbo raised the sword again. He wrapped both hands around the hilt. His wrist ached as he tried not to let it dip again. 

"Can you swing it like that?" Thorin's voice was contemplative. Bilbo could picture the barely contained amusement at his expense. 

"No. This is ridiculous. A complete waste of all our time." 

The hot rush of air as Thorin sighed behind him was closer than he expected. He could feel wisps of breath tuck down under the collar of his jacket. 

Thorin reached out, his hand over Bilbo's as he prised open his fingers and moved it down the grip. "You're right handed, aren't you? Put your left hand at the pommel, it will balance the weight like a lever. And bend your elbows a bit." 

His boots scuffed the ground as if he was hesitating, retreating, and then changed his mind. Then Thorin's back was all but pressed against Bilbo's, his right arm running alongside his as he encouraged him to hold himself in a more comfortable position. Thorin's left arm slid over his shoulder and crossed in front of his chest to cup his left hand. 

Both of Thorin's hands were rough against his skin, they covered his own completely. They were also very warm. And quite gentle. 

"Loosen your grip," Thorin's voice was still low, rumbling in his right ear. "Let the sword pivot, control the movement." 

"But Dwalin said-" he motioned to turn his head, but realised that Thorin was virtually cheek to cheek with him and thought better of it. "Dwalin said to keep it pointed at the target." 

Bilbo's gaze had been mostly focused on the hands around his sword, but he flicked his attention up a minute, suddenly self conscious. Dwalin and Dori had stepped further away, Dori apparently trying some swings with the larger dwarf's axes. 

"When you waggle your finger at folk, Master Hobbit, do you do so with a stiff wrist?" 

"No, I don't suppose that I do..." 

"Then, imagine that you are pointing at your opponent with your sword instead of your finger. And in a moment, you are going to poke them with it." 

Bilbo couldn't help chuckling at that. 

The fingers that were curled around his own flexed. For a moment, it felt like Thorin was stroking his right hand, and Bilbo's attention shot straight back to his sword. But then he realised that Thorin was guiding him, getting him to move his hand and wrist so that the blade swung in a circle. First a wide arc, and then, with a more subtle movement of the fingers, the tip traced a tight ring the size of, well, a ring. 

"See?" 

Bilbo nodded. He did see. This was much more comfortable, even with Thorin's bicep tight against his collarbone. As Thorin's hands moved over his knuckles, Bilbo could feel the hard parts of his palms where calluses had formed. It made him wonder if he would get calluses from using his own sword, and he found that he didn't mind the thought particularly. 

"Mind not to lock your elbow and you'll have a good range of movement." Thorin flexed and bent Bilbo's arms to demonstrate. "You're small, so you'll have to fight in close quarters, but you can duck and dodge. And if you get right in you can throw your body into the thrust." 

Suddenly, Thorin pushed Bilbo's arms up and out at full extension. At the same time he leaned into Bilbo, pressing to his back, his right thigh against Bilbo's, his foot knocking Bilbo's leg forwards with a jerk. 

"Oh!" Bilbo cried, nearly losing his balance. 

They teetered there in that position for a moment that seemed to stretch out. Like the end of a dance that had a dangerously pointy component to it. Then Thorin's hands uncurled from Bilbo's and he carefully stood up straight. 

"I think you've got the idea now..." 

The air felt so cold across his knuckles that the hair on the back of Bilbo's hands bristled on end. His own hands on the dark hilt looked pale and small now that Thorin's were gone. Bilbo stared at them a moment. He twiddled his fingers and the sword swooped in a circle. 

He lowered his arms and stood up as well. Thorin was already turning a corner, walking away. 

"Yes... I think I've got the idea," Bilbo nodded in agreement.


End file.
